It was a lazy day for them. For once in their years together, no-one had come running into the estate or sent for them to handle some problem in the mountains or in the nasty part of town. For once, they were just sitting in bed, lounging and reading and talking. His dark head of hair rested in his lap, body curled in a comfortable but somewhat awkward position, one hand working in his hair while the other flipped pages of a dusty book. Amber eyes were trained on the words on the pages, lips quirking now and then at something that puzzled him or in pleasure when something clicked in his head. It was funny to watch his emotions, watch them vary and switch about quickly.
"You're staring again, Hawke."
"With plenty reason," a quirky smile. It was returned somewhat shyly.
"Really then? Care to explain?" his hand fell from the book and tangled in black hair, twisting the locks in tiny braids distractedly. Hawke shook them out with a huff.
"What's to explain? I just can't take my eyes off you," his usual grin was in place. He was smacked lightly on the underside of his jaw.
"The truth!"
Hawke sighed exaggeratedly, shifting to lean on his elbows, arching his back to stare up in Anders's face, lips twisted coyly.
"It's my personal amusement to watch you think. I know, it's odd, but when has anything been normal?" he tilted his head as Anders let out a small, airy laugh. Hawke picked up one of his hands and examined the cobalt veins that ran under his love-bitten skin; they had a faint electric shimmer to them. He craned his neck and murmured against his wrist.
"It's funny to see that expression of confusion on your face. I imagine you get headaches from how deeply and hard you furrow your brows," another grin. Anders made a face, and Hawke laughed.
"That little glare of skepticism is funny, too."
"Now I think you're just making fun of me."
"Not at all! You wanted the truth, and I delivered."
Anders opened his bruised mouth to retort, when an echoing howl resonated in the hall outside the door, and a giant slobbery dog barged into the room. The sound that came from Anders was enough to make Hawke burst out in robust and hearty laughter. The dog bounded up to the bed, leaping up on huge paws to lick at his master's faces. Hawke pushed at the dog as Anders ducked under the covers.
"Down, Boots, down! Bad dog, off!"
"What kind of a name is Boots?" came Anders's muffled snarl from under the sheets. Hawke finally managed to shove the dog off the bed, scratching behind his ears as Bhodan came huffing and panting, babbling apologies, that Sandal had let the dog out of the kennels, he'd deal with it right away. Hawke poked at the lump under the linen.
"You're one to talk; you named your cat Ser Pounce-A-Lot."
"He was different. He earned that name; a Darkspawn almost got him, swatted the bugger on the nose. Drew blood, too."
"You told me when we first met," Hawke grinned, brushing his hand down Anders' shoulder as he resurfaced. Anders rolled his eyes and flushed.
"Still. He pounced on many a thing. He was a noble beast. He deserved that name. But your...horse...thing...its name is Boots. Why Boots?"
"He ate a pair of Carver's boots once."
"See! This is why I don't like dogs! They eat your clothing! A cat eats mice, bugs, icky things!"
"Dogs eat cats," Hawke smirked at the ashen look on Anders' face, ducking away from the light punch the blonde man threw his way, laughing lightly. He grasped Anders' wrist in hand, drawing him into his chest despite the rumbles of annoyance that came from him, nuzzling his neck and nipping at lovebites.
"So I take it you're a cat person?"
"Nice observation, Eagle Eye."